Coffee and a Biscuit
by four-legged clover
Summary: Maria Reynolds is a reporter for the New York Times, and James is a waiter at her favorite coffee shop. Conflict is inevitable. – For Hazards (TheHazardsOfLove13) for the Caesar's Palace fic exchange. Enjoy.


5:59 AM. Rain pours down on the fire-escape balcony of a New York apartment. The potted plants leaning against the railing stand a little taller as the soil around their roots gets damper.

Inside the apartment, a tinny-sounding alarm clock ringer goes off. It rings four or five times more before Maria Reynolds finally manages to get up and whack the off button. She stumbles out to the living room in a T-shirt and shorts and collapses onto her tiny armchair. She didn't get enough sleep, and she's already exhausted. The perfect start to what was already going to be a mediocre day of work, work, and more work.

She can hear rain outside, at least. Maria has always liked the rain, how it changes the world from crowds and flashing cars to a damp ghost town.

She steps out onto the damp metal balcony for a moment, relishing the cool drops that fall onto her bare arms. It's cold outside, but Maria doesn't care. She'd rather be cold than hot in any case. You can do something about the cold, but heat is hard to stave off.

Checking her watch, Maria realizes she's already wasted fifteen minutes of her day staring out at the rain. She darts inside and takes a quick shower. A quick towel-off, and she pulls a cardigan and jeans on. Ready to go. She grabs her laptop, tucks it in her computer bag, and steps outside. Locking the door, Maria takes the elevator down from her fifth-floor home to street level.

A right turn and a short stretch of walking bring her to her favorite coffee shop, Revolutionary Coffee & Tea. It's a tiny, relatively unknown shop, and Maria finds it the perfect place to settle in and write some articles. She's been going there for several years now. The staff recognizes her instantly whenever she stops by. As she pulls open the door, a bell attached to the top chimes.

"Morning, Maria," one of the staff members behind the counter calls.

"Hey, John," Maria says with an easy smile. John's been working there since nearly the day the little shop opened, one of their first hired employees. He practically runs the place nowadays. "How's business?"

"As usual," he replies. "You're the second customer of the day." It makes sense, since the shop only opened a few minutes ago at 6:30. "Want your usual?"

"Yes, please," Maria says warmly. "Can I get one of those ham and cheese biscuits to go with it?"

"Of course," he says. "That'll come out to five ninety-four, please."

Maria passes him a five and a one, and John hands her six cents back. "I'll send over your food in a couple of minutes," he says.

"All right," Maria tells him, walking over to her usual corner seat. She slings her bag into the metal chair, takes out her laptop, and sits down. She opens the laptop. A welcome screen greets her: "Welcome back, Maria! Still working?" It brings a smile to her face every time she reads it, and it does now as she types in her password and pulls up her current Google Drive file. It shows her the half-written article about the New York school system that she's currently writing for the Times. The headline: **Public schools implementing new recess and lunch policies**. It's not the most interesting thing in the world, but Maria can handle it. She's gotten good at writing articles from working as a reporter at the New York Times for a few years. She has to be good at it or she'll get fired.

Maria is interrupted from her musings when a server she hasn't met before comes over with a mug of coffee and a biscuit. "Here you go, miss," he says, setting down her order.

"Who are you?" she asks him warily. "I haven't seen you around here before." At most other places an unknown server would be of no consequence, but not at a place like Revolutionary. Maria prides herself on knowing everyone who works there and a lot of the regular customers, too.

He gives a tiny, almost imperceptible bow. "My name is James, and I'm your new server, miss…?"

"Maria," she finishes for him with a hint of a smile. "Thank you for my order. Now, if you'll let me go back to my work?"

"Of course, my dear," James says with a grin. He turns to leave, but before he can move, Maria slams her computer shut and glares. "What?" he asks, startled.

"I'm not your dear," she says with a growl, pulling her computer back open and entering her password again. The school systems article comes up immediately, but she doesn't feel like working any more. "You just met me a moment ago, and no one calls me their dear unless I tell them to."

James smirks. "If you aren't my dear, then what are you?"

Infuriated, Maria resorts to the pet name her mother used to call her. "I'm a shooting star, tearing fate apart, and you're not to call me anything but Maria!"

Over by the counter, John looks up from his magazine. "Everything okay over there, friends?"

"Oh yes, we're fine," James says sweetly before Maria can answer. "Just getting Miss Maria some cream for her coffee." He scurries off and returns with one of those little plastic containers of cream. "Here you are, Maria!"

She pulls a face. "I don't put cream in my coffee."

James just laughs and returns to the tiny kitchen.

With a sigh and a half smile, Maria returns to her work. She doesn't really mind what he calls her, it doesn't matter in the long term, but it's nice to remind herself that she's the only one who can control her life. Some waiter who doesn't mind his own business won't change that.

* * *

A few hours later, Maria's article is nearly done, and all that's left of the biscuit is a few crumbs. She checks her watch; 11:43. Lunchtime. She slides her computer into her bag and gets up. "I'm going to go eat, John," says Maria. "I might be back this afternoon, we'll see."

"Have a nice lunch," John calls from behind the counter. The door shuts behind Maria, shoving her back into bustling New York City.

A short walk away is a nice business called Peggy's Delicatessen, and that's where Maria heads now. A cat darts in front of her, and she pauses for a moment to pet it before continuing on her way. The deli's right ahead. Pushing the door open, Maria glances at the array of food and is about to order when she hears a familiar voice say, "Hello?"

Sure enough, James is standing there when Maria turns around. She rolls her eyes. "Did you follow me?"

He grins sheepishly and shrugs. "I thought that maybe since you know about little off-the-beaten-path places like Revolutionary, you might know other nice places to go, and it's my lunch break, so here I am. I'm rambling, aren't I? I suppose I did follow you."

Maria sighs. "Let me get some food, and then we can talk." She steps up to the counter, orders a sandwich, and takes a seat at a table.

James seats himself across from her and rests his chin on his elbow. "So, you're Maria."

"Yes, I am," she says. "Did you want something from me or can I go back to my work?"

James shuffles his feet under the table. "Well, I was wondering if you knew any good places to eat dinner around here?"

"Are you asking me out?!"

"Um…"

Maria pulls out a notebook and pen and rips off a piece of paper, scribbling something on it before sliding it over to James. "Meet me here at six thirty. Now go away, will you?" She tries to will away the blush that she's sure is spreading across her face.

"Uh, yeah, okay, I'll see you then, I guess," James says with a bit of a stammer. He gets up abruptly and walks out of the deli, shooting a brief grin at Maria before the door closes.

She smiles and walks over to the counter to pick up her sandwich. "Thank you."

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed it, Hazards. *heart***


End file.
